What?
by j-orbanski
Summary: John and Sherlock build a gravity bong. They get high. They watch Doctor Who. They eat jam sandwiches.   Lots of Sherlock /John UST  Warnings: casual drug use.


**077.) What? **

**Author:** Jordan  
**Fandom:** Sherlock BBC  
**Pairing:** Sherlock / John  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** 1,118  
**Disclaimer:** Only borrowing the characters, nor profit, etc.  
**Summary:** John and Sherlock build a gravity bong. They get high. They watch Doctor Who. They eat jam sandwiches.  
**Notes:** If you follow me on LJ, my new writing journal is **insane_pyro_fic**. My friends found my fic and have started to quote it out loud, so I've had to make a new journal. *headdesk.* Written for my 100 Prompts in 200 days challenge.

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"I can feel my brain vibrating in my skull," Sherlock says to John one Sunday afternoon.

"What?" John replies, confused.

"It's buzzing, my entire head, it's throbbing with feeling. I can see sound waves, John, I can see you talking, and they're vibrating my mind."

"Are you high?" John asks, sipping his tea.

"Obviously," Sherlock rolls his eyes as he steeples his fingers under his chin.

"What?" exclaims John.

"Oh, do calm down. It was less than a gram of marijuana. It's not like I was shooting up heroin or snorting lines. Twelve-year-olds smoke more pot than I do. Now, do me a favor and make me something to eat, I'm absolutely ravenous."

John is flabbergasted with Sherlock's brutal honesty. And he couldn't be too upset with Sherlock, even he had smoked a few bowls in his day.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll make us jam sandwiches if you share your stash with me. There's no way you just bought a gram; I know you too well, you bought an extra 5 grams for safe keeping, and it was probably a better deal too. Don't try and hide it, Sherlock."

Sherlock smirks, "You make the sandwiches, and I'll get it ready for you. I wanted to try new methods of a getting a more powerful high anyway."

"What?" John asks, wondering what he's gotten himself into, but getting up and heading to the kitchen anyway.

As John makes a plate of sandwiches, Sherlock weaves in and out of the kitchen, grabbing random supplies.

John wonders once more what he's gotten himself into.

After John brings the plate of jam sandwiches into the sitting room, Sherlock tells him to sit down as he runs off in the direction of the bathroom. He returns with four towels in his hands.

"What?"

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly," explains Sherlock, shutting the door to the hallway and stuffing the towel into the gap at the bottom of the door before he shuts the sliding doors to the kitchen, doing the same thing with the other towels.

"Mrs. Hudson is going to murder us if she catches us," John says, sitting on the sofa, examining the random items now lying around on the coffee table.

An empty plastic Coke bottle with a hole cut in the bottom; a metal straw; tin foil; a lighter; and a bucket of water.

"What?" John asks, eyes skimming over the random set of supplies.

"It's going to be a make-shift gravity bong. Not the most perfect way to go about it, but a few deep hits and you'll be higher than ever," explains Sherlock.

He makes a sort of funnel out of the foil and attaches it to the metal straw. He takes a small baggie out of his pocket, opens it, and places a chunk of the weed into the funnel.

"Hold this," he asks, handing the straw-funnel contraption to John for safe keeping.

He dunks the bottle into the bucket, filling it up with water, his palm covering and uncovering the hole cut in the bottom to let water in and out. He leaves the bottle halfway full of water, his large hand making sure it doesn't leak.

"Put that in the top of the bottle and hand me the lighter," Sherlock demands.

John puts the funnel into the top of the bottle, where the cap would be, and hands Sherlock the lighter.

He lights the weed on fire, and slowly beings to let water out from the bottom of the bottle and back into the bucket. The bottle fills with cloudy smoke.

"When I say to, take out the funnel, and as quickly as you can, suck in as much smoke as you possibly can. I'll take the rest."

John nods.

Sherlock gives the signal and John does precisely what he was ordered to do – John's good at taking orders as a former military man – and takes a deep hit of the smoke, keeping it in his lungs as long as he possibly can before blowing it out slowly. Sherlock inhales the rest of the smoke, closing a tight seal around the bottle's head as soon as John's lips leave it.

They repeat the process a few more times – filling the bottle with water, lighting up, letting water out, each taking deep hits, holding it in their lungs before letting it go.

Once they run out of weed, John is a bit sad, he's certainly not as high as he could be. But then Sherlock's eyes light up like a child's on Christmas morning and a smile creeps onto his face.

"What?"

"I have a surprise for you that I think you'll like," Sherlock explains.

From his pocket he pulls out a long, fat blunt.

John could kiss him he's so excited.

Sherlock lights it, sucking in a few times before passing it to John.

After a few hits, Sherlock's had a brilliant idea in his still-vibrating brain – getting very, very close to John and blowing the smoke into his mouth. John inhales the smoke, and they're so close to each other that John can count Sherlock's eyelashes.

John repeats the process, inhaling before exhaling into Sherlock's mouth, and he's tempted to kiss him, he's so close.

They finish the blunt, inhaling and then exhaling into each other's mouths. They sit in silence for a few minutes before John turns on the telly. A rerun of Doctor Who is just starting, the colorful vortex of the opening credits making John's mind throb with vibration, the colors brighter than he's ever seen, despite being so dark.

"Fish custard? That sounds delicious!" Sherlock says with a laugh sometime later.

"What?" John laughs, helping himself to a jam sandwich.

Sherlock steals the sandwich out of John's hand.

"Hey! That's mine! There's a whole plate of them and you still have to steal mine?" John whines.

He takes a giant bite of the stolen sandwich with a smile before John tries to snatch it out of his hand.

They end up on top of each other, John taking a bite of the sandwich still in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock takes another bite, jam smearing onto his cheek.

John doesn't hesitate at all before he licks the jam off of Sherlock's face.

"What?" John asks, an innocent look on his face, "I'm not going to waste the jam."

Sherlock laughs, a full-bodied laugh which wracks his entire lithe frame.

"Now, I'm not condoning drug use, but we need to do this more often," says John, grabbing another sandwich from the plate on the table.

Sherlock nods his head in agreement as he steals another bite, jam smearing on his cheek once again.


End file.
